This blog is (mostly) a near-verbatim transcription of my writing journal. Margins are the same as the journal. These are exercises, not finished products. Other types of writings will most likely emerge at some point.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Foreign Streets

In foreign streets of drunken loreI sigh; and sigh a little more...Struck like William in his final drawFinished like some Cretaceous dinosaurAnd left to decay like any worn-out, legendaryanimal will do; to be replacedby some more adapted carnivore;Into the ground my withered carcass goeson unclipped fingers and unclean toeslike some forgotten outlaw of 1888:into the dusty ground must I lie and sleep:stuffed inside my grave - sullen and strait:forgetting how to weep;

Upstairs, the bed it creaks and moans -like my late grandfather, it wisely groansfor more of what it lacks:Women's ripe and fruitful tongues - thatfollow in tempestuous cracksof sensuous shrieks and cantankerous tones:

supplying dreams for drunken splendorand endless nightmares with innocent, tenderfarewells and young forget-me-nots...(hearts that swell and minds that hinder)lusty seductive plotsthread with indecisive pleasof lovely, playful, sultry kissesupon her water-laden eyes -with tears and tissue and blushing liesin a dream she silently wishes...